Harbinger
by EpochWulf
Summary: It was summer and the Chosen intended to make the most of it. Rest, relax, explore new-found love interests... running from megalomaniacal Digimon while trying to prevent a rogue star from tearing apart the Digital World wasn't on the to-do list... Romance/Adventure, Daikeru, Others.
1. Long Distance Caller

**LATEST EDIT: I merged the prelude with Chapter One, since the prelude might have been off-putting for people looking for a romantic story, with all the Digital World drama and no humans present.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon. **

**Notes: This story ****wont**** contain any original characters, neither human nor digimon. I am just not a fan of OC's in FanFiction, so don't expect any. This story contains slash (boy/boy) and straight pairings. I reserve the right to change the pairings as I see fit, as well as the rating. For now and the foreseeable future, it will remain T. Anyways, I hope you enjoy my story and if you do (or don't for that matter), please leave a review! As nice as positive reviews can be, constructive criticism is **_**even better**_**, so if you have any of that please share. ^^ **

**Part One – Approaching Darkness**

**Chapter One- Long Distance Caller**

She stands alone at the crosswalk, waiting patiently for the lights to signal a safe passage across the street. She wears a revealing pink tank-top and a pair of yellow-brown shorts. They extend barely a hands width – from middle finger to base of palm – below her waist. The burgundy-haired boy catches up to her and flashes the girl a smile. They make brief eye contact but Daisuke can't help mapping her lightly-tanned body with his eyes. _I'm glad Takeru isn't here – he'd totally yell at me for that!_

"Hi," Daisuke says with a wide grin on his face.

"Hello Daisuke," Hikari replies, shifting her pink backpack slung across her shoulder to permit a gentle wave.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's nice out."

"Summer break is going to be so awesome this year!" Daisuke carries a backpack of his own. It bulges uncomfortably; all the papers contained are loose or crumpled. Hikari's is neat and tidy, like usual.

"I hope so," she brushes her right bang out of her eyes. The wind's playing with her otherwise orderly hair. It's distinct in that she has two long, pointy sets of bangs falling at either side of her head, and the rest rests flatly on her scalp. "You get my invitation?"

"Taichi's barbeque? I did indeed. Never had his barbeque before," Daisuke's stomach growls at the thought of delicious food. He scratches his messy head of hair. "Sorry ..."

Hikari laughs. "To be honest, neither have I. Expect it to be burnt or something."

"Oh great." Ahead of the pair, two more familiar individuals could be spotted. One has a white bucket hat on his head, a trademark he kept ever since the younger generation's trek to the Digital World. The other is a girl with similar hair to Daisuke, albeit much lighter, like thistle. Their names are Takeru and Miyako respectively.

Daisuke waves the two down, but they don't see him. They are engaged in their own discussion, but their low pace means that Hikari and Daisuke can catch them in a minute.

"Guys!" Daisuke says when they approach the other two. He does an inverted bow – a staccato lift of his chin. "Sup?"

"Oh hey!" Miyako greets. "Daisuke, the lovely Hikari."

They make small talk as the two groups coalesce into one. Hikari is now on the far right. To her left is Miyako, left of her is Takeru, and finally Daisuke brings up the far left of the group. As they chat Daisuke notices that Hikari seems somewhat withdrawn from the conversation, staring ahead of herself almost as though she is in a small trance. Her face is flushed and she looks, well, quite frankly awkward. Daisuke makes a mental note to bring it up with her later.

"...so the barbeque today, you two got your invitations?" Daisuke asks when the previous topic becomes stagnant.

"Yeah. Taichi's cooking, wonder how that'll be," Takeru says.

"Probably disastrous. Maybe I should bring something from the store if things don't turn out so well," says Miyako, nudging her brunette best friend.

They arrive at Daisuke's turnoff point. But he doesn't break off from the rest of the group alone – Takeru comes with him. Normally, Takeru's apartment would place him with Miyako and Hikari, but he and Daisuke have 'plans.'

"No one's home?" Takeru asks as they arrive at Daisuke's house.

"Nope! Jun's off with her new boyfriend and my parents are out of town for a while!" the burgundy-hair boy says with a smile.

"How," _searching for the right word,_ "convenient."

Daisuke lets them into the house. It is messy, but Takeru has been here enough times to expect that. Daisuke drags the blond – who's hand is now mysteriously interlocked around Daisuke's own – to Daisuke's room.

The house is messy, but the burgundy haired boy's room takes first prize as being the worst of them all. Socks, shirts, even underwear are scattered around the room randomly. Finished, partially crumpled soda cans line the desks. The garbage is overflowing and fistfuls of paper are tossed about. It's much like Daisuke's locker, only on a much bigger scale.

"Mind the mess," Daisuke says.

"You should do something about this room before it becomes a health hazard."

Daisuke puts his finger on Takeru's lips. "Takaishi, don't you understand it is my day off. I can't clean on my day off!" And then contradictorily: "Well, there is _one _thing we could do. I still feel like ... school. I could really use a shower. Care to join me?"

Takeru needs no further coaxing and the two are standing naked in the shower. There are few moments were the blond gets to admire his boyfriend's natural form - so the two take their time rubbing away the daily grit from each other's figures. Takeru is still a little awkward about the whole thing, but doesn't resist. Daisuke is more open about sexuality in general, but doesn't push Takeru further then he is willing. Other then a few deviant interactions – a brush of the hand here and there – nothing explicit happens.

**llllllllll**

"Your brother's here," Taichi says to Yamato. "Along with _noodle boy_."

"Great! That's everyone, now you can start on dinner. I'll invite them in," Yamato says. Taichi nods and retreats to the back yard. As the two boys – late teens – approach, Yamato opens the door.

"Aw little bro and his boyfriend, how cute," Yamato says.

_Are you serious Yamato? _Takeru doesn't speak but the look says it all.

"Don't worry little brother; they're all in the back yard." Yamato rubs his hands together. "You! We need to talk sometime soon. You know the whole obligatory 'if you hurt my little bro I'll hunt you down and break your limbs' type thing..." Yamato's interrogative index finger-which is pointed right at him-makes Daisuke shrink back. He gulps audibly.

"Yamat—"

"Relax Yamato," Takeru tries as though to wave away the tension. "I can fend for myself. Leave the poor kid alone."

"I'm not a kid..."

"Are we going to go inside?"

"Let's," Yamato says, gesturing unnecessarily at the door.

Soon, the back yard is a full house of Chosen, the entire dozen of them, together for the first time in nearly six months. The last time the entire group convened was at Christmas time last year. Fragments of the group mingled and met as it usually did, but as a rule of thumb, the older and younger Chosen spent their time in the company of their age group. Not only that, but the older Chosen were now leading busy lives in the workforce and universities, and only rarely got free time to socialise.

Free time was a luxury the younger Chosen would get to enjoy for an entire two months...

It had been four years since the defeat of Balialvamdemon, and everyone had changed a considerable amount. New loves had formed and fell to pieces; friendships broken and mended. The older Chosen were specialising in their careers; the younger only now contemplating theirs.

"Ok, first batch is up!" Taichi shouts over the dull accumulative voice of many individuals. Yamato takes the hamburgers to a long table stacked with condiments, plates, and snacks.

It is a special party for both Yamato and Taichi – it is the first barbeque the two hosted since they moved into an apartment together. Of all the romances that formed, Yamato's and Taichi's was perhaps the most unexpected. They were both masculine_ alpha-male _personalities that most people thought were definitely straight. Not only that, the two disagreed and argued on everything (and they still do today). How such a strong relationship formed from such a chaotic soup of personality traits was both mysterious and amazing.

But Takeru and Daisuke could empathize. And while everyone accepted Taichi and Yamato's liaison, Takeru's _much _less willing to expose Daisuke and his relationship to anyone. Yamato (thus Taichi as well) are the only ones who know about it.

To everyone's surprise/relief, the food is quite delicious. The rest of the afternoon and evening progressed fast and without incident. The interactions between groups and subgroups were very predictable. Jyou and Mimi - who are in a relationship approaching a three year anniversary – are almost inseparable. Sora is often with them, or with Taichi and Yamato. The younger generation sticks together for the most part. The only thing peculiar about the evening is Hikari; the very social brunette is spending the majority of her time by herself.

"Hey, did you notice anything strange with Hikari?" Daisuke says as he opens the front door to his house.

"I was wondering when you were going to ask..." Takeru says. The door closes behind them; the house is dark and otherwise devoid of other individuals.

"So you know what's up, then."

"Yeah. A few days ago she asked me out. I turned her down."

"Ouch," Daisuke kicks his shoes off, then scratches the back of his neck. "So she knows about us, then?"

"No."

"What did you tell her? Not interested?"

Takeru sighs. "It didn't go too well. We aren't exactly on good terms right now."

"You should talk to her, Takeru."

"Well. I know I need to at some time. I am going to wait until she cools down a bit first, then I will. I promise."

"And then you are going to tell her about us?"

"You know I can't do that."

"I know you don't _want _to do that..." The two stood in awkward silence for a few moments. "Change the subject?"

"Yes."

The two watch television for about thirty minutes. However, the reunion evening had ended quite late and the two boys found themselves rather tired. Quickly they are in their underwear and in bed.

It was still a new experience to both of them, the physical aspect of their new relationship. Daisuke's arm is draped over his boyfriend's torso. Takeru's hand rests on the burgundy-haired boy's thigh. They face each other, and Daisuke is the first to fall asleep.

**llllllllll**

The Overlords meet once a week to discuss the future of the Digital World; the world they intend to conquer. They are all veiled by the light-detaining material of the Spire. Only small rays burst through the ornamental windows situated geometrically around the pumpkin-shaped chamber.

"Did you get anything out of your prisoners?" the first asks. His voice is deep and rich, like a Japanese warrior who had seen and fought many a battle. He leans back in his chair, a motion barely visible to his counterparts.

"They all died on me too quickly to give anything valuable," the second replies. The voice is dark and female. She licks her lips after she speaks.

"That is because your methods are outdated and ineffectual. You should have given me control of the interrogations." The first says, gripping the edge of the chair's armrest.

"And deny me the simple pleasures in life?" She chuckles. "I think not."

"Excuse me, m'lords." A small Digimon approaches, a trey of hot beverages resting on its right palm – turned upright. "The tea you requested is ready." It sets the consignment of liquids on a central table – neutral territory.

"Leave us now," the first says as he stands from his chair. It was as polite as they got to their underlings.

"Yes, m'lords," and the creature vanishes behind a wall pane – a ninety degree turn from the center of the room. The pane defines the inner circumference of the chamber, with three openings which descend the trunk of the Spire via spiral staircases.

There is a short lull where the overlords consume the tea. The third abstains from the fluid, as usual.

"And what of your raids?" inquires the female overlord, eyeing the first.

"My messenger is late, again," the voice is agitated. It's owner drums his armrest impatiently.

"He must surely be punished for this insubordination," The woman says. The third is silent, merely observing the interaction with mild interest. The first cannot see the third, but he can _feel _its presence. Its uneven breathing leaves little dots of condensation on his dark armour.

"Yes. Unless it has sufficient reason, it will be punished,"

As if on cue, a shrouded figure leaps from behind the pane. He is concealed by a fabric cloak, only his eyes are visible.

"Master, please forgive my tardiness. The raid ended later then we had expected it to,"

"So they are starting to resist, are they? Friendly casualties?"

"That's not it, Master. The raid was successful – very successful actually. We had to do a little extra searching, which is why I'm late. We believe we have found someone with a connection to the Prophet, Master."

"Oh?" The first eased up. This was good news indeed. "And it is still alive, I presume?"

"Yes Master. She is still alive. Your orders, Sir?" the servant digimon uses this time to catch his breath.

"Torture her until she tells you the exact location of the Prophet. Do _not _kill it until after it tells you all we need to know. Only then can you put it out of its misery." The first takes the final sip of his tea.

"Yes, Master." And the servant digimon vanishes like the previous waiter did.

"You are getting soft, old man," the second says in a mock voice.

The first glares behind his mask. In a swift motion, he brings the tip of his sheathed super weapon onto the chamber's floor, sending a vibration chattering through the tea cups. "Do _not _mock a superior officer."

The woman laughs and relaxes into her chair, but says nothing further.

**llllllllll**

Picklemon flies through the town searching for the Prophet's hut. Tonight he is the bearer of bad news, but knows he must warn the Prophet of the dangers ahead.

The town is of a basic grid layout. The streets are composed of mud, dirt and in some occasions, crushed rock. The huts vary between hemispheres and cubes, and the majority of them are small, single roomed, and accommodate small families or individuals. The Prophet's hut has no defining marks or symbols that would make it stand out from the others – that would, after all, defeat the purpose.

But Picklemon has the hut burned into memory, and guided by moonlight he approaches the dome house located near the town center, where it is safest. The tiny pink Digimon flies under the bamboo mat which acts as a door.

At first inspection, the place looks empty. A few books lay scattered around, among some other possessions. But the house is otherwise uninhabited. Picklemon pokes his head outside to ensure that no one is following him. When he confirms their safety, he initiates the ritual – two claps, two stabs at the floor with the handle of his spear, and a final circular motion with the blade of the weapon.

A vibration ripples through the seeming nothingness, and uncloaks itself is a mystical black sphere. A purple disturbance indicates the entrance. Pixiemon passes into the Prophet's realm.

"I wasn't expecting you this early, old friend!" Wizarmon says, leaning against a milk crate. In front of him lay a crystal ball and deck of cards. Neither object has any practical use – the cards are playing cards and the crystal ball (upon closer examination) is actually a snow-globe he got as a gift a few weeks back. His actual weapon – a staff – is laying next to him.

"I am afraid I bring bad news, wise Prophet," Picklemon says.

"Worse then the approaching Doom?" The Wizarmon asks, rubbing his gloved hand in a circular motion over the snow globe.

"No, different."

"Has your effort to contact the Chosen failed?"

"We are sending the transmission now,"

"Good. Then what is it?" the Wizarmon shakes the globe, causing a small blizzard to occur throughout the confined world.

"New Antioch was attacked and destroyed."

The Prophet squinted, when he spoke his voice was a note higher then it had been before. "And what of _her?"_

"I'm sorry, she's been captured."

A few moments of silence, then the snow-globe meets its strident end as it smashes against the realms wall – _which IS apparently solid._

After a few moments of rage, the Prophet sinks to his knees and morns the loss of his _significant other_.

"We need to relocate, quickly. Soon we will have Advent forces at our door."

"_If I could get to their central base and free her ..."_

"There is nothing we can do for her now. May you see her again at the Village of Beginnings. But we need to leave now. If you are captured before you can help the Chosen, her death would have been for nothing!" Picklemon shakes Wizarmon's shoulders, bringing him back to reality.

Wizarmon wipes a tear from his eye and stands up, shakily. "You ... you are right." He disassembles the secret reality with a wave of his staff. The two fall to the wooden floor with a soft _plop. _

"Right now, we need the Chosen. Now more then ever!"

**llllllllll**

Takeru is woken by a Digivice. It beeps furiously, and if its persistence correlates to the importance of its message, one could assume the world was ending. Daisuke is facing away from Takeru now – he must have turned over in his sleep. Takeru groggily reaches over his side of the bed and feels around for his bag. He sifts blindly through his possessions until he finds his Digivice. To his surprise, it is silent. The ringing is originating from the far side of the room. _Daisuke's Digivice. _

"Daisuke, wake up." The blond nudges on his boyfriends arm. The burgundy-haired boy is unresponsive. "Daisuke!" This time a little louder. The burgundy-haired boy stirs in his sleep but doesn't wake up. The blond rocks the sleeping body of his boyfriend. This gets a slight reaction – like a twitch.

Takeru gives up momentarily and gets out of bed. The nearby alarm notes that it is 5:56 AM. Takeru hunts down the source of the sound and finds it in Daisuke's schoolbag. He unzips it and a bunch of papers and stationary goods fall out in a pool on the floor. He reaches into the bag and finds no Digivice. Logically, it is in the side pocket. If Takeru were more awake he'd have searched there first, but sleep does weird things to people's judgement. He pulls out the blue and white device.

"Daisuke!" Takeru nudges him again and directs the blue light onto his face. Daisuke opens his eyes, only to yelp and immediately close them.

"What the hell?" Daisuke raises his arm as a shield. But now he hears the strident beeping coming from the Digivice. "Make it stop!"

Takeru's Digivice decides it wants to go on as well, and does so. The two Digivices beat off tone, creating an interference pattern. It sounds like a soundwave-shooting machine gun. Takeru gives Daisuke his Digivice and retrieves his own. He furiously clicks through its interface until he finds the source of the beeping. _One new message. _

He opens the file and the sound stops. Daisuke does the same. Both have identical messages. Neither contains words of any sort, but both contain a single file attachment. Takeru climbs back in bed, and the two rest their backs against the headboard.

"Go first," Takeru says. Daisuke nods and opens the file. A series of clicks chime from the device with varying intervals. The signal is repeating and contains no words, just the clicks. Takeru opens his respective file. They are identical.

**llllllllll**

**Upon editing i realize my triple asterisk page breaks don't work on FFnet... so I'll have to use llllllllll from now on...  
**


	2. Reunion

**Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon. **

**Notes: This story ****wont**** contain any original characters, neither human nor digimon. I am just not a fan of OC's in FanFiction, so don't expect any. This story contains slash (boy/boy) and straight pairings. I reserve the right to change the pairings as I see fit, as well as the rating. For now and the foreseeable future, it will remain T. Anyways, I hope you enjoy my story and if you do (or don't for that matter), please leave a review! As nice as positive reviews can be, constructive criticism is **_**even better**_**, so if you have any of that please share. ^^**

**Chapter Two- Reunion **

"Has the same message been sent to everyone?" Daisuke asks. He opens the drapes to his room; it is still night out. The moon is full and setting in the west. It is a clear night outside, but due to Tokyo's light pollution, only a few bright stars can be seen. The rest hide in the darkness of the sky.

"Only one way to find out," Takeru says. "I'll send a circular message to everyone."

"Good idea," the burgundy-haired boy retreats to his bed. Even though it is summer out, the late night is cool, and the boy finds himself longing for the warmth of his blankets and his boyfriend. Takeru is sitting cross-legged, too curious to give the cold a second thought.

Daisuke's D-Terminal goes off. But unlike last time, this is a single sound. It is the sound made when an email is sent back and fourth between D-Terminals.

"Ok I got your circular."

Takeru blinks. "I didn't send it yet..." Takeru's display shows that he too received an email.

"Looks like someone else has the same idea," Daisuke opens the message. It was from Miyako: _I hope I don't wake you all up. I just got some strange message from an unknown source. It contains no words, just sounds. Has this happened to anyone else?_

"It happened to her too," Daisuke says. Takeru sends his circular anyways and tells Daisuke to respond. Daisuke responds to the circular with: _yes we got that msg 2. _

Hikari is the last to respond, but confirms she had a similar experience. Now every second generation Chosen has received the message.

_We should meet in the morning, _Miyako texts. _At my store. 8 AM if you can. Since you are all already up..._

The brief conversation comes to an end. Takeru and Daisuke try to make up an hour of sleep, but Takeru's mind is restless, so he spends the hour thinking about the Digital World and what the strange message could mean.

**llllllllll**

"Sorry, we haven't made fresh donuts yet. These are yesterday's batch," Miyako passes around a box of donuts to the Chosen. They have all conglomerated at Miyako's place. She generously offers the tired Chosen breakfast.

"It is very kind, thank you," Ken Ichijouji says. Miyako smiles brightly, and everyone else says their thanks.

"The messages are identical, as far as I can tell." Takeru says. "But we should check just to make sure. Daisuke and I got the same message, but we should play them all just to verify." Everyone agrees and plays their message one at a time. As Takeru assumed, they are all the same.

"I'm sure Koushiro would be able to help us out on this one. If anyone can decipher those clicks, it'd be him." Iori says.

Miyako snaps her fingers. "Right! I thought that myself and already called him. He said he'd be here as soon as he can, which should be any minute now." The group finishes their breakfast – juice, bread and other baked goods – and engaged in speculation. Finally, there is a knock at the door. Miyako jumps to answer it.

"I came as soon as I could," Koushiro says, pressing the lock button on his car remote. It beeps acknowledgment of the command.

"It's all good." She leads him inside, down into the basement where the group has gathered. It is a rectangular room, mostly for storage. The ground is carpeted by a worn-out brown rug. The younger Chosen sit around an upside-down milk crate – a makeshift table with food on it.

"So you didn't get the message, then?" Miyako asks Koushiro.

He shakes his head. "I guess it's just you guys, then. Can one of you play the signal for me?"

"Yeah sure," Daisuke opens the message and plays the signal. He then hands the device to Koushiro who is setting up his laptop.

"I think I can actually recognize it, but before I jump to conclusions I'll analyze the audio and see if I can isolate any hidden messages or sounds. Then I'll mess with the audio message itself and see if I can decode it. This may take some time." The computer genius interfaces the Digivice with a self-made connector which plugs into the laptop's USB port. He copies the audio file and separates it into many components. He analyzes.

"The digital world needs our help again, doesn't it?" Hikari says.

"It's looking like that may be the case," Daisuke says. "But if the Digital World _is _in trouble, I would think Gennai would have said something about it."

"How do we know that that message isn't from Gennai?" Iori says.

"Because, err," Daisuke shrugs. "I don't know."

"I think I got it," Koushiro says. "I didn't find any underline messages, but I'm fairly sure that the transmission itself is Morse Code. I can easily get a program that can convert it into standard Japanese. I could also convert it myself but that'd take a lot longer."

The group waits anxiously for the program to work. Finally Koushiro says "Ok, I've got it translated from English to Japanese. It's a distress message asking for help. The message is followed by 6 numbers." Koushiro scratches the back of his neck.

"Who sent it?" Ken asks.

"Unknown sender."

"And the numbers?" Daisuke says.

"I'm unsure, but because there is the word '_negative' _separating three and three, I have a feeling that they may be coordinates. Let me cross-reference something," Koushiro says. A few minutes pass, in which the Chosen finish breakfast. "I thought as much. The coordinates match the location of an active portal in the Digital World."

"Then we should go there right away!" Daisuke exclaims.

"And if it's a trap?" Ken asks.

"That's a risk we'll have to take. Digimon could need our help down (out?) there, we can't just sit back and do nothing,"

"Hold up, _noodle boy_. Even if it's not a trap and the message is legitimate, if they – whoever they are – do need your help, you won't do them any good without your Digimon. I'll send a message for your partners to meet you guys at the coordinates." Koushiro says.

"Okay," Daisuke says.

"And another thing; pack an overnight bag. The portals have been unstable as of late. It wouldn't be wise to rely on them staying open for long..."

**llllllllll**

After an eternity, the Chosen arrive in the Digital World. The world is as they remembered it, and yet somehow distinctly different. For instance, the portal they just arrived through is a conic projection, not a television set or a computer screen. Numbers, letters, and glyphs rotate the cone as it spins clockwise with a speed of approximately 1 RPM.

"Daisuke!" A voice shouts. The voice is familiar and soon Daisuke is smiling uncontrollably.

"Vmon!" The blue dragon digimon leaps into Daisuke's arms. The two spin briefly, arms interlocked. "It's so good to see you, buddy. It's been ages!"

Behind him the other Chosen partners emerge: Patamon, Gatomon, Wormmon, Hawkmon, and Armadimon. Each caught up with their respective partners. The reunion is warm and at least thirty minutes is spent catching up.

"What about that signal, Dagyaa?" Armadimon asks. Iori yields his Digivice to his partner. The signal plays, but none of the Digimon have any idea of its significance.

"We're here to look around. And to see if we can find the source of the signal," Ken says.

The sky is blue and clear, and the sun is particularly hot this day. The chosen walk for about twenty minutes. There is field in every direction they look. The path they follow is dry and carved of dirt. The only possible conflict that could have taken place here recently was drought...

"Are you sure we're going the right way?" Miyako asks Hawkmon. The bird Digimon nods and points a clawed finger in the southwest direction. On the horizon line is a subtle cluster of specks rising above the crops. It's an estimated two and a half kilometres away.

"Right. Keep up the good work... walking," She fist-pumps unenthusiastically.

If this was what saving the Digital World was about, the Chosen wanted none of it; boring, uneventful walking in unbearable heat. At least Koushiro had the foresight to suggest canteens. Daisuke takes a sip of his canteen and offers Vmon some. Each Chosen brought their own.

Finally, they arrive in the small village. A giant sign with the word _Meadowville_greets them. The group takes a break and cools down in an alleyway, its rooftop canopy offering protection from the solar rays. There are a few Digimon scattered about, almost all of them Child level but a few adults are amongst the throng.

"We should talk to these Digimon, see if they know what's going on around here," Iori says.

"Right. We should split up into groups. With our Jogress partners, in case some evil Digimonshow up." Ken says.

"Sounds good," Daisuke gets up and surveys the town geography. It is a simple town, almost purely utilitarian. The streets are straight and everything is laid out in a grid fashion. There are a few decorations and monuments scattered about, all the shacks (it would be an accurate description of the housing) were either square or hemispherical, most containing only one room. It is a small farming community.

"Ken and I will head northwest over there," Daisuke points. "Takeru and Iori should head southwest and check out those storage bins – or whatever they are. Hikari and Miyako head southeast. We can convene here in a few hours or sooner if anyone finds anything relevant. If there is any conflict – any whatsoever – call everyone else immediately."

Everyone nodded in agreement and paired up. Daisuke's method would be the fastest to explore, they could cover all corners of the town. They would mutually explore the northeast area, their current location, before heading out further. Setting out on such a mission gave everyone a little jolt of exhilaration – it had been a long time since the Chosen were on an adventure and some of them were looking to enjoy the old sensation of exploration.

A small contingent of Terriermon and Lopmon meet Hikari's team as they move southward. It has been so long, the Chosen have forgotten how to properly introduce themselves.

"Hello, I am Hikari. These are my friends, Miyako, Gatomon and Hawkmon." Hikari says. The small digimon just look at her and blink. In all their short existence they'd never seen a human before – it was their first visitation by an alien species.

"We are the Chosen from Earth, here to help." Miyako says and fist-pumps. The action causes the little Digimon to jump. Perhaps it is viewed as a threat?

"Oh brother, this'll take a while..."

Ken and Daisuke walk through busy streets. They appear to hit the town's market district, a wide variety of Digital World goods lay on display tables. The street is crowded with Adult digimon. Some come alone and carry strange Digital World tender. Others bring carts full of goods, and are trying to barter. The Chosen ask some of the fine folks a few questions.

"Get in line like everybody else!" "Are you selling something?" "If you want me to buy your stuff I got to see it first." "Well I'll be damned, I never seen one of them there Digimon before," and the oh-so welcoming "are you going to buy something or stand there talking like an idiot?" _Friendly neighbourhood hospitality_. Perhaps this little town has been isolated from the rest of the Digital World. Did they have no idea who (or what) the Chosen were?

They exit the market district and head east in defeat. They had yet to find a single Digimon that recognised them. No one knew about the exploits of—

"The Chosen?" a raspy old voice says. Daisuke turns around and stares into the face of an old Digimon. The hair on his head is a grey bush, his beard grows unrestrained. He hunches forward as though plagued with back pain.

"We are. Can we help you?" Ken asks, bowing politely.

"My, my. You'd take a moment out of your busy schedules to help an old-timer like me? Why that is so very, very kind of you! My usual assistant is off getting a few things at the market district, and my latest shipment just arrived," the Jijimon points at a large building, the Locomon train station. "If you could help me out I'd be forever in your debt."

A few large crates lay in one of the cargo bays. Daisuke and Ken try lifting one, but its weight is contradictory to its size. They are unable to budge it.

"I guess I need to work out more..." Daisuke says. "These crates must be packed with rocks or something." In a flash of blue and green, XVmon and Stingmon appear. The crates' weight is no match for the Adult Digimon, and in a few minutes all the cargo has been transported to the Jijimon's storage shack. He thanks them profusely.

"Travellers, you must be hungry. My wife Babamon and I would be delighted if you could join us for supper..."

"That's very kind and all, but there are four more of us out there, and we're searching for some answers." Ken says.

"Oh? Four more of you? With digimon partners too? Delightful, invite them all, it will be a feast. As for the answers you seek, if anyone in _Meadowville _could help you, it would be me. Err, us."

"Alright, thanks!"

Food in the Digital World has a certain _peculiarity _to it. Like all the flavours (sour, sweet, savoury, etc) have been multiplied a factor of ten. Everything as a result has a strong taste, overwhelming. But everyone eats ravenously. After supper (and a fair bit of ensuing small talk), the group decide to test Jijimon's knowledge.

"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to ask a few questions now," Ken says, retrieving his Digivice. **  
**

**llllllllll**

**Again, just realized my triple asterisk page break wasn't reading on FFnet... now I have to replace it with the ugly ****llllllllll**...  



	3. Prophecy

**Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon. **

**Notes: Due to my schedule, I'm only able to update wed-fri weekly. I cannot update sat-tues even if I wanted to as I don't have access to internet those days... This weird internet schedule will persist for the foreseeable future. Sorry for the inconvenience (at least I can write in my free time on those days). **

**This story contains slash (boy/boy) and straight pairings. I hope you enjoy my story and if you do (or don't for that matter), please leave a review! As nice as positive reviews can be, constructive criticism is **_**even better**_**, so if you have any of that please share. ^^**

**Chapter Three- Prophecy **

"It's been a while since we spent a night in the digital world," Hikari says. Her back is resting against a tree trunk. Its arching canopy of leaves weaves an organic pattern in the sky. The stars above twinkle in the absolute calm of the night. For a moment the brunette wonders if stars in the Digital World behave as they do in the Real World, whether they were massive, gravity-bound spherical conglomerations of plasma, or if they were something entirely different.

"Too long," Gatomon says. She is curled up beside her partner, tail ring catching and reflecting the moonlight from all three moons. "I wish you'd come more often."

"Sorry," Hikari says. "But now its summer again. We'll be able to come out more."

"You better!"

Jijimon hadn't provided any useful information. According to him, the only thing threatening the neighbourhood was a troublesome, clumsy Digimon prone to accidentally set things on fire; nothing worth calling in the cavalry. So why _were _the chosen called to this section of the Digital World?

Maybe this was the wrong section of the Digital World. Had Koushiro made a mistake?

"Koushiro doesn't make mistakes when it comes to this sort of thing," Miyako shot down Hikari's innocent comment.

"I'm sorry for suggesting something so unreasonable," Hikari rolls her eyes. To everyone's genuine surprise, it turned out the Koushiro actually _wasn't _asexual. The Chosen found this out when Miyako (in a declaration 10 decibels higher then it should have been) announced that Koushiro agreed to a date. And while the relationship only lasted a few weeks before personality and age incompatibilities (sixteen vs. nineteen) led to their mutual separation, the two retained a lasting emotional bond. It was impossible for someone to contradict anyone Miyako had a _lasting emotional bond _with, even if that person themselves was another subject of her _lasting emotional bond_...

The two sit in silence for a while. Nearby, the other four chosen are setting up camp. They didn't bring too much, as they could only load what they could carry. A few blankets, some foodstuffs, other essentials.

"How you holding up?" Miyako asks, following Hikari's gaze. It leads her right to Takeru, facing away, sifting through his overnight bag.

"I'm great, why wouldn't I be?" Hikari says.

Miyako gives her an incredulous look. "I meant the whole _Takeru _thing," Her voice is a whisper.

"Oh, I'm ok, I guess..."

"That bad, huh?" Miyako moves closer to the brunette. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," Hikari says, shaking her head. But Miyako is a very persuasive woman. It is impossible to keep anything from her; Hikari had given up on that long ago. She is charismatic and has a deep desire to console her friends in need. Her support is a perfectly reflective house of mirrors, trapping a beam of light with 100 percent efficiency. Invincible support.

"...And that he is already in a relationship _with another girl_," Hikari says, recreating the scene from memory.

"That's really odd," Miyako says, massaging the brunette's shoulders. Gatomon and Hawkmon left the conversation minutes ago at Miyako's gentle request. "I always thought you two would end up together."

"Me too, honestly," Hikari's voice is bitter.

"What's her name?"

"I don't know."

"What! How do you not know her name?"

"I was angry," Hikari says, pulling away, turning to face her friend. "And I wasn't thinking straight."

"But you would like to know who she is, right?"

"I don't know_, possibly_," Hikari says. But curiosity is building inside.

"Well I want to find out. Then I'll _possibly_ let you know."

**llllllllll **

Takeru opens his eyes, just a crack. It's still dark outside, but the sun is beginning to rise in the east. The sky is tinted navy blue, a few wisps of clouds float gently in the air currents above his head. He glances around him, all five other Chosen and their partners are present and sleeping on their respective blankets. He yawns.

Sunrise in the Digital World is a lot like sunrise in the Real World, both are vibrant and beautiful. He contemplates waking up Patamon so the two can share the awesome spectacle, but doesn't. Patamon's probably seen the sunrise numerous times already anyways.

But Patamon is actually awake. Takeru nearly jumps when he looks at his partner, only to find eyes staring back at him. But Patamon doesn't look like he's woken up to watch the sunrise.

"We are not alone, someone's watching us," Patamon says, flipping one hundred eighty degrees and into battle position. His words take a few seconds to sink in, and the blond is fumbling for his Digivice.

"Who's there?" Takeru shouts, tearing a few other Chosen out of their dreams and into reality. There is no answer, but a rustling in the leaves gives away the Digimon's positioning.

"Air Shot!" A burst of concentrated air is fired into the trees. It hits its target, and a deceptively fragile-looking digimon falls off its branch and onto the hard ground below.

"Ow!" The pink Digimon says, rubbing his head with one hand. "What kind of welcome is this?" His other hand grasps his spear. Picklemon looks up at Takeru and finds him in a battle stance, Digivice extended, with his partner Patamon positioned defensively in front of him.

"Who are you?" Takeru asks. "And why were you watching us?"

"Whoa, calm down there hotshot," Picklemon raises his hand submissively. "Point that Patamon elsewhere; I didn't come to fight you."

Takeru studies the pink Digimon. Its physique is very familiar. The Chosen had an encounter with such a digimon before. He just had to sift through eight years worth of distorted memories...

"Have we met before?" Takeru asks. He recalls its name now. The Chosen met a similar Digimon eight years ago. _Was it the same Picklemon that sacrificed itself so the Chosen could escape the Dark Masters? _

"I don't think so," Picklemon says. "Look. I think we got off on the wrong branch. I am Picklemon, a representative of the Prophet."

"I'm Takeru."

"I know. You are the Chosen Children. I'm glad you got my message." It would be inaccurate to call them Chosen Children now; a more appropriate title would have been _Chosen Young Adults. _But there is no alliteration in that. They didn't mind the old terminology.

"Wait. You are the one who sent the message?" Ken asks. He is wide awake now, like four of the other Chosen.

"Yes, I am. I am glad you came, because – Is he dead or something?" Picklemon points to Daisuke, pleasantly sleeping through the conversation.

"Daisuke, wake up!" Miyako screams, a compulsory evacuation from his dreams. The boy jumps into reality, looking around frantically.

"What, what?" Everyone's eyes are on Daisuke. He looks around and spots Picklemon. He blinks; perhaps the Digimon was a phantasm from his dream? Rub eyes, clear away sleep, look again. Still there...

"Oh Daisuke, the supposed leader of the Chosen. How nice of you to join us," Picklemon says, punching the ground with his spear handle. The rest of the chosen bring Daisuke up to speed.

"Yes, I sent the message. The Prophet will explain everything; he requested that I take you to him immediately. Well, when you woke up. That was why I was watching you sleep. Sorry that I startled you, it wasn't my intention in the slightest. So if you'd be willing to join me, I'll take you to him immediately."

**llllllllll**

The Chosen follow Picklemon back to _Meadowville_. The sun has now fully risen above the horizon line, and the morning air is comfortably warm. The blankets they used for the night are wrapped up in backpacks and duffel bags. One of the Digital World's moons – the biggest one – is still visible in the sky as a dim sphere. The others have since receded from view.

Picklemon refuses to offer any other information on the topic. Perhaps he doesn't want to dilute the Prophet's (divine?) message with his subjective deduction. At least that is Ken's viewpoint.

After over an hour of walking, the Chosen arrive at Meadowville. The town is already alive with civilian traffic, in fact more so then yesterday. The streets are now populated with Adult-level Digimon, many of the Child digimon are no where to be found.

"Perhaps they go to school too," Hikari suggests. She briefly fathoms what it would be like to be a full-time Digimon school teacher. It makes her giggle.

"That would be... terrible," Daisuke says.

"But if they have schools, they might have gym. And they might have soccer."

"Well," Daisuke sighs. "Ok. Tolerable. As long as there's no math..."

"What's math?" Vmon asks innocently.

Daisuke shudders. "You don't want to know."

They arrive at a hut. It is near the center of the town, but it doesn't stand out in any way. No mystical markings, no hieroglyphics of any sort. No statues, no crowds, no anything. Picklemon gestures for them to enter. Hikari leads the foray.

"I guess nobody's home," Daisuke says upon inspection of the hut. He is the last of the humans to enter. There are a few scattered possessions lying about, but none of the mystical paraphernalia one would expect a mystic to possess. For a brief moment, Daisuke considers this entire thing might be a trap. He instinctively feels for his Digivice, just in case things turn sour.

"Looks can be deceiving," Picklemon says, meeting the curious gaze of the Chosen. He peeks out the door, making sure the group wasn't followed. "It pays to be cautious," he says. He claps twice, and pounds the ground twice with his spear handle. Then he waves the blade left to right, and left again. The nothingness is now filled with something, and energy field or something. The projection is spherical. A distortion in the field appears, like an entrance, beckoning the Chosen to step inside.

The Chosen enter the sphere, hesitantly. At its center sits a Wizarmon, cross-legged and meditating. He looks up lazily, sees the quantity of visitors and flinches. He stands and bows.

"Sweet mother of Qinglongmon, you found them!" The Wizarmon bows his head. "It is an honour to meet the legendary Chosen, two-time saviours of the Digital World.

"Sup," Daisuke says. Hikari elbows him the side.

"It is nice to meet you too," Hikari says, bowing in response. "Are you the Prophet?"

"That would be me. I cannot believe our message made it to you. I am grateful you came to our aid in such a dire time."

"We do whatever we can to help," Iori says. He has grown up a lot since the defeat of Belialvamdemon. He is now two centimetres shorter then Hikari and his hair (which had always been buzzed) had been allowed to grow out longer. It was brown and subtly spiked. He had been diagnosed as farsighted, and now required reading glasses when he did homework. But he maintained his thin, compact body frame and a determined sense of morality.

"Then your reputation is deserved," Wizarmon says. "But enough introductions, we have much to speak of and time is running out."

Wizarmon makes a few abstract hand motions, and the dark energy that holds the Prophet's realm together animates to life. Like a television screen being turned on, the darkness disappears and is replaced by a whirlwind of color and pattern. They are now looking at the sky, a familiar sight, a replica of the one they saw last night. It's speckled with glistening stars. Wizarmon points to one in particular. The Chosen immediately recognise it; it was the brightest star in the sky last night. Everyone commented about it some time in the evening. No one thought it as a relevant threat.

"That is Dark Star," Wizarmon says. It's contradictory, and Daisuke feels the burning desire to comment on the matter, but refrains. "Its name is conceived from the Dark Star prophecy, an ancient prophecy which foretells of a great _dark age_, the beginning of which corresponds to the appearance of this object."

"How does it work? What does the star have to do with the_ dark age_?" Ken asks.

"To be honest, I don't know. I don't know what the star's significance, only that it _is _indeed significant. Significant enough to draw the attention of this malignant group," the wall's imagery shifts. The sky is replaced by the ground, and the marching of a fearsome army. A soldier in dark armour leads the Digimon. A mechanical object is attached to his back. _Thrusters? A weapon?_

"They call themselves the _Advent_. Everywhere they go they leave a trail of death and destruction. We don't know what they want, or what they are fighting for, but I have reason to suspect they are trying to kill _me._" Wizarmon says, facing the wall display.

"We won't let that happen," Daisuke says, impulsively and urgently. The others nod in agreement.

"That is kind of you," Wizarmon says. He pauses and thinks back to his wife's inevitable capture. A contorted expression forms on his face. "However, shortly I'll no longer be of relevance. My purpose, I have concluded, is to pass on a message. A colleague of mine will be delivering a tablet, direct from the Digital World's premier repository of knowledge. I will translate the tablet as best I can, and give you the knowledge it contains. He believes it is directly related to Dark Star and the Advent. After that I fear you may have far bigger problems then protecting me."

The lack of defining mystic paraphernalia made sense know. The Prophet was trying to keep a low profile.

"Are the Advent on their way now?" Daisuke asks.

"Yes. But they are still a long way away. It will take them at least three sunsets before they arrive. But they will come eventually. I can only prey that the tablet arrives before that. It is the only hope we have of finding the connection between the Advent and Dark Star. And perhaps the only hope we have of defeating them."

"We're going to need a good cover back at home," Takeru says dryly.

"Good luck," Daisuke says.

"Would you be alright? If we left now for our world and came back for the evening?" Hikari asks.

Wizarmon chuckles. "Young one, I have survived on my own for many years. I can easily survive a few hours. The Advent forces are still three days away, your being here by nightfall is both generous and unnecessary.

"Given the severity of the situation we're supposedly in," Iori says. "I think it would be safe to cover all angles."

Wizarmon bows. "The Digital World is, as it was, in your debt. Thank you."

**Please read the above note about update schedule. Thank you.**


	4. So Goodbye

**Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon. **

**Notes: Due to my schedule, I'm only able to update wed-fri weekly. **

**This story contains slash (boy/boy) and straight pairings. I hope you enjoy my story and if you do (or don't for that matter), please leave a review! As nice as positive reviews can be, constructive criticism is **_**even better**_**, so if you have any of that please share. ^^**

**Chapter Four- So Goodbye **

"A good cover story?" says Taichi, gliding a razor down his face. He rinses the tool and turns to Hikari.

"We don't know how long we're going to be in the Digital World. It could be a while, so we'll need something convincing."

"Right," Taichi says, bringing the razor down again. He isn't fond of facial hair, and shaves often. Hikari caught him in the act. "Well, you could reuse the good-old camping excuse. It's worked for us in the past, it could work again."

"But everyone has cell phones these days," Hikari says, pressing her weight against the doorframe.

"True," He tilts his head up and goes to work on his neck. "However, not everywhere in Japan has cell phone service. I'm sure there are a few places in northern Hokkaido that don't."

"Probably. But we'd still need a reason to travel all the way to Hokkaido."

"Good point," Taichi puts the razor away and applies aftershave. It is a green paste with a pine fragrance. He uses a pinhead amount of the substance. It leaves a barely glossy residue on his face like slightly oily skin. "I'm sure you could come up with something. But I can ask around to see if any of us have relatives up there." By 'us' he means the older generation.

"Alright, thanks."

It is 5:00 PM, and Hikari spends her time at the local pool. It's busier than usual, with school being out and all, but manageable. Swimming has become a frequented hobby of the brunette. Here she prefers solitude over the company of her friends – swimming is a personal activity for her. Like a form of self-discovery. She does a few laps of the pool, from deep to shallow to deep again. She wears a one-piece bathing suit, characteristically pink. It's not that she doesn't like other colours; she's merely a creature of habit. Pink is her colour.

She dries off and heads home. The swim doesn't provide her the inner solace she desires; Takeru still emblazons her mind. No matter how hard she tries, she cannot seem to be rid of him and the lingering feeling of loss. Growing up, she always had boys' ambitious eyes set on her; she never figured she'd get turned down, least of all by Takeru.

She has dinner with her parents. It's an odd feeling, she keeps looking across the table where Taichi would sit, but the seat is always empty. He would always talk with his mouth full, and though obnoxious, it was at least better then silence. She clears her throat. Now would be as good a time as ever.

"I'm going on a camping trip tomorrow, to Hokkaido."

The conversation goes well and she finds herself in her room, packing. Ken wisely suggested they pack light, since they'd have to carry everything with them or leave it behind. She packs a change of clothes: utilitarian in design, pants that unzip above the knee and become shorts, a pink shirt, clean underwear, a brown jacket (light yet warm), and a headband. Weather in the Digital World is localised and highly sporadic, and it is best to be prepared.

She contemplates taking some other possessions. There is a picture of her and Takeru captured by a photo booth. The picture itself has seen better days, it is ripped down the center and taped together again. They are embracing each other, smiling and laughing. It triggers a memory and she sighs. _How simple things were back then. _

In the end she settles on her camera and a set of batteries. Just like old times.

**llllllllll**

Like Hikari, Daisuke likes to relax in water. He's lying down in the tub, tiny waves of hot water rising and receding over the terrain of his body. A gentle condensation forms on the washroom mirror. He wiggles his toes against the hard white of the tub. So relaxing...

The drier sputters three beeps. Has it been that long already? Daisuke sighs and with his heel, releases the stainless steel drain cap. His liquid heaven begins its decent down the drain.

Daisuke treks through the living room with a towel draped around his waist. His hair is still wet and leaves a trail of droplets behind him. He is cold, despite it being late June, because the water droplets on his skin are literally sucking thermal energy out of him to evaporate.

"Uh, you're getting water everywhere," Jun says in disgust.

Daisuke waves her comment out of relevancy. "Relax, it's just water. I'll deal with it after."

Daisuke hates doing laundry (or any other kind of cleaning for that matter), but he loves wearing something fresh and warm. He closes and locks the laundry room door, and lets his towel fall to the ground. He finds something casual, a yellow and black set of pyjamas, and black trunk-style underwear. Like the water drops before, he is now sucking the stored heat directly out of the clothes. He plops the remaining articles in a basket. He walks with the basket over a shoulder and the towel under his feet, like skis, cleaning the water trail as he makes his way to his lair.

"Check this out," Jun says. She is sitting cross-legged on the couch reading a magazine. Daisuke slides the basket to his doorway and tosses the towel a few meters into a hamper. It makes it in.

"Aren't they cute?" Jun says, flipping a few pages to a shot of four shirtless men. Her eyes are seemingly glazed over.

"The one on the right is pretty hot," Daisuke says. "The others are... okay." Jun flips through a few pages, each with the same four in different poses. Some solo, some group shots.

"I'm surprised you say that. The center left one is the most 'obviously gay' one."

"He's the most feminine one, yes. That doesn't mean he is gay, or that just because I'm bi, I find him the most attractive," Daisuke says. He prefers mesomorphic, masculine body types – of average height and build, like Takeru. He didn't find himself attracted to the feminine type. "And besides, I'm already _in _a relationship, remember?"

"No harm in looking at a magazine," Jun holds her hands up defensively, half-heartedly. "And how is that going, anyways?"

"Good," Daisuke says, blushing. _Why the sudden interest? _ A few seconds progress with no conversation. Daisuke breaks the silence with: "Anyways, I'll be going camping for a few days. Up in Hokkaido with a few friends."

"Oh really? Cool," Jun continues reading.

"Just tell mom and dad that when they get back, ok?"

"You should call their cell and ask first," Jun says. "I don't want to be held responsible."

"Their cell's dead. I tried already."

"Oh." She thinks for a few seconds. "Is your boyfriend coming with you?"

Daisuke laughs awkwardly, scratching at his shirt tag. "Yeah, he is. Why are you so inquisitive lately?"

"No reason..." Jun leaves her brother alone and heads to her room.

Daisuke puts his clothes away, on hangers. He's too lazy to actually fold. Anything that cannot be put on hangers gets tossed messily into drawers. He empties his schoolbag directly into the recycle bin, only taking out useful things like pencils and erasers. He then packs it full of clothes and other things he'll need in the Digital World. There is a knock on his door.

"Come in," he says. Jun enters his room. She's leaning against the frame, looking down, swinging her right leg like a gentle pendulum. Her left hand is a fist. She giggles awkwardly as though having an internal conversation. Then she springs into life, gallivanting across his room with a peculiar spring in her step. She approaches him quickly, and forces open his hand. She passes him something, a...

"...A condom...?" Daisuke says incredulously. "Jun what the—"

"I was your age once too, Dai. I know that—things—can happen unexpectedly."

"Uh," Daisuke's face is a molten shade of crimson, a deep vain siphoning directly from the mantle. He takes the condom and nods awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. "...thanks." She nods abruptly and leaves the room. Daisuke rubs sweat off his forehead with his sleeve.

_Screw it,_ he thinks after a short mental debate. It doesn't take that much room anyways. And Jun was right; anything _could _happen. He puts it into his bag.

**llllllllll**

Takeru finds himself alone, like usual.

There is a note on the kitchen table, intended for him.

Takeru,  
I'm sorry I cannot be there right now. I have some important business  
to attend to. There's 2000 yen on the kitchen table, buy yourself a pizza  
or whatever you want. I'll be back late tonight, or sometime tomorrow  
morning. Talk to you later. I love you.

_Figures, _he thinks. _Out late again. Probably off to see the preacher... she sure spends an awful lot of time there. _

Takeru finds himself becoming more and more like his brother every day. He even adopts Yamato's obsessive cleaning habits. _After all, someone has to take care of the house, right?_ It's becoming almost a hobby for him; he focuses on it deeply, entirely. It's rudimentary, but doing so calms all the mental noise in his head. It allows him the freedom from thought, the focus of nothing.

Scattered around the house is religious Paraphernalia, specifically Catholic. His mother is half-Japanese, half-French. Having spent the majority of her life in France as a young adult, she naturally adopted its customs. She was bilingual, speaking both French and Japanese fluently. She had a basic grasp of English as well. Of all the customs she brought from France, the predominant one was Catholicism. She was born and raised in its essence, simple as that. In fact, Takeru had heard family rumours that a conflict in religion had been one of the major factors driving his parents' divorce – as ironic as that is. This was especially true in regards to raising Yamato and Takeru.

Takeru finishes cleaning the kitchen and living room, pockets the money and pours himself a bowl of cereal. He sits down with a pen in hand and writes his response letter. It covers the basics: Camping, Hokkaido, zero signal strength. Now all he has to do is close the letter. He goes to write 'I love you too,' but stops. A strong recollection initiates behind his retinas, the last conversation the two had:

_"You are becoming more and more like your brother every day," Takeru's mom says, venomously._

_ Takeru glares, hands contracting into fists. "Well then, you should have just left me with Dad!" He stalks off into isolation. Adrenaline courses through his veins. _

Ever since Taichi and Yamato went public with their relationship, Takeru's mother had been increasingly assertive about her religion. She deemed the relationship (between two men) "ungodly and sinful." The words were razor blades and lemon juice. As such, a massive amount of tension had accumulating between the two, resulting in frequent arguments. After a stalemate yelling match, they would go their separate ways; she would head out, often to see the preacher or other friends. Takeru would remain alone in the house, or go for a walk outside.

Takeru closes the note with: _Goodbye. _He pushes away the note and throws the pen across the room. It bounces and transverses the hardwood floor on its side, coming to a stop against the far right wall with thud. He is old enough to make his own choices; love who he wants to love, and believe what he wants to believe. If only his mother could accept that...

A few hours later, he gives his mind a rest – literally. The pillows are cold, as are the sheets, but comfortable in the heat of a summer's night. Before long, the sun rears its ionized head above the horizon line. Takeru kicks off his sheets and is presented with his eager arousal. In his minds eye he holds Daisuke on a pedestal. With the hands of god, Takeru relieves the burgundy-haired boy of his clothes, like peeling a mandarin orange. Ten minutes later he is in the shower, then preparing himself for the busy day ahead.

He heads downstairs, bag in hand, stomach growling for food. To his chagrin, the note is still on the table, untouched. He slaps a chicken sandwich together and heads to the meeting place – Koushiro's. **  
**

**This chapter was originally longer, but I decided to split it into two pieces so I could give them both more attention...**


	5. Inhibitor

**Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon. **

**Notes: Due to my schedule, I'm only able to update wed-fri weekly. **

**This story contains slash (boy/boy) and straight pairings. I hope you enjoy my story and if you do (or don't for that matter), please leave a review! As nice as positive reviews can be, constructive criticism is **_**even better**_**, so if you have any of that please share. ^^**

**Chapter Five- Inhibitor **

Taichi heads to his parents' place to pick up his sister. It adds authenticity to the cover story. But that is not the only reason – it was simply the nice thing to do. He first takes a short detour and picks up _noodle boy. _

Daisuke fumbles for the handle; the door doesn't open immediately. That is because Taichi's car is a shitbox held together by what appears to be masking tape. The handle is busted so Taichi has to open the door from the inside.

"Thanks for the ride..." Daisuke says, looking around the vehicle. _Is it even safe to ride in?_

"Yeah no problem," Taichi says, cranking the air conditioner. It's sputtering is a tin can full of marbles. Taichi quickly turns the dying device off. _ Air movement via windows it is, then. _

"God I miss it," Taichi says out of nowhere. The wind is blowing in his face, disorganising (or perhaps organising) his hair. His right hand taps the dashboard impatiently. There is hardly any leg room at all.

"Miss what?" Daisuke inquires. "The Digital World?"

"Yeah. Saving lives, being the hero. Exploring places no one else has ever gone before."

Daisuke grins. "Yeah it's a blast. Usually."

"One day," the brunet continues. "Maybe we'll be needed there again, us older generation." Taichi looks out the window longingly. He cracks his knuckles. "So you're dating Yamato's little bro now, eh?"

Daisuke coughs. _Why was everyone so damn inquisitive lately? _"I guess so..."

"Spoken with confidence," Taichi mocks. "Well, just so you know, you dating my boyfriends little brother makes you Yamato's brother in law. And that makes you my brother in law, in law..." Taichi connects the dots in his head. "Err... you know what I mean. That makes you family."

"And that means that Hikari is your sister in law, in law," Taichi says. Daisuke ponders that for a moment. To be honest, he never thought of it like that. The thought of Hikari at the barbeque pops into his head. _Surely he must know Takeru turned Hikari down. Did he tell Hikari why?_

"Um Taichi, did you... did you tell Hikari about Takeru and I?" Daisuke asks.

"No. Yamato specifically told me not to," Taichi says as they pull up to the Yagami residence. "I'll respect Yamato's wish. But I also respect my sister's feelings. You _are _going to tell her right? _Soon?_"

"Yeah," Daisuke replies, unsure of his own answer. "I have no problem letting her know. But Takeru does. He has a problem letting anyone know; god knows why."

"Well regardless I'm not going to sit by idly while she suffers. Do whatever you need to do, but do it quickly. Either you sort this out, or I will," There is no play in his tone, he's dead serious.

"Yes sir," Daisuke says. He has near-infinite respect for Taichi for many reasons, but the fact that Taichi is having this conversation with him right now, as opposed to ripping Daisuke's head off for indirectly hurting his sister is reason enough.

"Now get in the back seat, will you," Taichi says as Hikari walks towards the car. Daisuke grumbles but obliges, opening the door for the brunette as he does so.

**llllllllll**

"I'm glad everyone was able to come," Hikari says when the last group member arrives, a straggling blond in green.

"I had to trade shifts with my brothers," Miyako sighs. "So now I owe them. With interest..."

"Well at least you didn't have to lie to cover up another lie," Iori says, rubbing his right wrist with his left palm. His ego, his sword of ethics, is beginning to dull. At least he can take solace knowing his lie would save lives. That was ultimately more important, right?

"I printed off some astronomy notes," Ken says, to brighten up the conversation. "We can read them on the way. Perhaps I can find a logical explanation for Dark Star."

"Excellent. We should best be going then. You'll cover things on this end?" Hikari says, directing her attention to Taichi and Koushiro. They nod. "Good. Everyone packed?" More nods, this time from the entire group. "Good. Let's get going!"

Koushiro presents them the portal, and off they whisk, to save another world.

**llllllllll**

The sky glows upon their arrival. An orange-red aura emanates from _Meadowville, _pillars of black rise into the morning sky like ambitious tendrils attempting to contact concealed stars. Nearby, fields of dry crops burn like wildfire. _This can't be accidental._

"Three days my ass!" Daisuke glowers. He reaches into his pocket and retrieves his Digivice, a smooth white and blue device featuring a few buttons and a screen. From behind a nearby tree emerges the group's Digimon Partners. They are bruised as though they just came from a fight. He wanted to ask what happened, but there was no time for that.

He glances at Ken and nodded. His Jogress partner shares his train of thought. He too retrieved his Digivice, solid black in design. In two brilliant flashes of light, two Adult level Digimon emerge: XVmon and Stingmon. In a further display of color, the two co-evolve into a single, powerful being, with waist-mounted energy blasters and armour-tearing cable claws. The being, named _Paildramon_ undergoes further metamorphosis. It emerges a brilliant dragon, lined with steel blades. Its back sports a fearsome weapon.

The four kilometre trek takes just over fifteen seconds on Imperialdramon's back. With a 'sonic boom' they break the sound barrier. An amorphous energy field provides acceleration dampening for the Chosen, preventing the law of inertia from flinging them backwards off the dragon at neck-breaking speeds.

The Chosen get an aerial view of the carnage. The town can no longer be called that, instead it is a warzone with blazing huts and handfuls of invading Digimon scattered about.

Imperialdramon lands amidst the onslaught. The invading Digimon study their new guest briefly, before continuing to torch the landscape. He reaches back and shuttles the Chosen down on his hand to safety. Two separate sets of fireworks go off and spawn Silphymon, a humanoid bird Digimon and Shakkoumon, an angel Digimon whose flesh resembles ceramic. Having safely dropped off its charges, Imperialdramon undergoes yet another transformation. It emerges its strongest possible form, a dragon man hybrid with a monstrous hand-mounted cannon. Its name is Imperialdramon Fighter Mode, and it is the Chosen's ultimate weapon against the forces of darkness.

Daisuke glances around at Imperialdramon's opponents. He recognises most of them: _Thunderballmon, Mamemon, Metalmamemon..._

"Leave, I'll handle them," Imperialdramon says, originating seemingly from the sky. The Chosen depart under the protection of Silphymon and Shakkoumon. The assailants – whose attention is now fully directed to Imperialdramon - turn their guns on Imperialdramon and fire. _What was wrong with them, are they suicidal? _Daisuke thinks as he glances back.Their attempts are as feeble as trying to stone a human with cotton balls. There is a brilliant vortex in the sky – like a black hole, except visible. It is the maw of Imperialdramon's super weapon, charging up to full power. It emits an audible whine, and it makes the hairs on the back of Daisuke's neck stand up. He mouths the word _fire._

Thank the digital gods that physics only sometimes apply in the Digital World. If this was the real world, the moment a stream of antimatter (positrons are antimatter electrons with a positive charge) collides with regular matter, the result would be an exothermic reaction of inconceivable magnitude. In fact, the moment the beam would come into contact with _any _regular matter (includes air) the particles would undergo mutual, total annihilation. It would be like trying to defeat a target with an RPG, where the charge detonates the moment it leaves the barrel – highly ineffective. But in the Digital World, the beam slices through the air and contacts its target in an awesome display of raw power. Imperialdramon's opponents disintegrate entirely. The exchange is quick and painless.

"Jijimon!" Ken shouts. Daisuke turns his attention from the (one-sided) battle and to his Jogress partner. Ken is kneeling beside the old Digimon whose clothes are torn and skin bruised from combat.

"..._they attacked... through the crates..." _Each word he sputters is laboured. It reaches up, touching ken's face. Then it dies. Jijimon's arm crumbles under Ken's grip the same way a burnt piece of wood succumbs when force is applied to it.

"No..." Ken says in a wavering voice. He punches the ground, head sunk. "Damn it!"

"Should never have left," Miyako is saying with tears in her eyes. Her two hands form a beak as she cups her face. "Never should have left..."

For a few moments there is silence. The remaining invader Digimon continue to attack Imperialdramon – in utter futility. The attack defies logic, _perhaps the Digimon are possessed or something?_

A voice yells "_fall back!" _ What few enemy forces remain flee in all directions. And the attack is over as abruptly as it begun.

**llllllllll**

The first views the exchange being played on the heads of his subservient Monimon. They are small green digimon whose heads are literally cathode-ray style projection monitors. The first taps his foot against the floor at an increasing rate as Imperialdramon's laser disintegrates his forces. Then the feed ends.

"It's foolish of them," The first says, "To play their trump card so early." He strokes his sword, even toying with the near-indestructible chains that seal it. One of his Monimon makes a noise and intercepts a radio wave transmission.

"Lord Tactimon," a voice says, robust and mechanical. "The inhibitor device is ready to be tested." The background is an intimidating mixture of red, purple and black. The feed is direct from the Spire, but the first—Tactimon–already knew that without needing to look.

"Good," Tactimon says, standing up. He exits the tent his forces have set up, a simple construct of fabric. His armour provides him with more then enough heat and element protection, but the tent is a formality. He brings his sheathed sword to the ground with a gentle thud; it supports his weight easily. He faces away from the monitor as he speaks, head craned and observing the sky; waiting for the fireworks to begin. "Test it."

**llllllllll**

With the Digimon still evolved into their highest forms, the Chosen comb the city for survivors. It's an easy job; most of the huts have been burnt to ashes; line-of-sight spans the entire town. They call out for survivors, but receive no response. If there were any survivors, they must have fled.

And then something peculiar happens. _The sky ripples_. A wave of energy washes over the horizon. It can only be seen for a fraction of a second, but a feeling lingers, a tingling sensation budding over the entire body. Every individual strand of hair on everyone's body stands up, uncontrollably. The Chosen's Digimon make a collective moaning sound, and to the human's horror, the impressive forms of Silphymon, Shakkoumon and Imperialdramon break down, energy dispersing in all directions. The result is 6 fresh digimon.

"Ok," Daisuke says, "What the _hell _was that?"

"I don't feel so good..." Chibimon chirps. He walks imprecisely, as though intoxicated. The other Digimon exhibit similarly disorganised behaviour.

"I'll call Koushiro," Miyako says the moment the field dissipates and her hairs return to rest. She pulls out her D-Terminal and sends Koushiro a brief update. The group talks amongst itself, suggesting different hypotheses to explain the forced de-evolutions and the bizarre wave that passed through them. "Uh guys, my message isn't sending."

"What does that mean?" Daisuke asks, uncertain the relevance. Technical details aren't his forte.

"It means I cannot establish an uplink to the Real World. The only explanation for that – no it cannot be..."

"What cannot be?" Daisuke asks, the seeds of worry sprouting in his belly. The other Chosen wear similarly concerned expressions.

"Well... as far as I know, an uplink is established through an open portal. If an uplink cannot be established... I have to assume the portals are closed." She gulps audibly. "All of them..."

**Well, that's it for this part. Now on to Part Two: The Advent ^^!**


	6. Trainspotting

**Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon. **

**Notes: Due to my schedule, I'm only able to update between wed-fri weekly. **

**This story contains slash (boy/boy) and straight pairings. I hope you enjoy my story and if you do (or don't for that matter), please leave a review! As nice as positive reviews can be, constructive criticism is **_**even better**_**, so if you have any of that please share. ^^**

**Part Two: The Advent  
Chapter Six: Trainspotting **

"So we're trapped here then," Iori says. He glances up at the sky smothered in smoke. No one comments further, instead they let whatever thoughts they have stir within the constraints of their own heads.

"Well, we could still try to find that Wizarmon, dagyaa." Armadimon suggests, clawed finger pointing in the direction of the Prophet's hut; if it weren't already a pile of ambers.

The group heads in the direction of the hut, continuing their hunt for survivors. The sickness that came after the wave has dissipated and the Digimon appeared to act sober. Daisuke led the group, with Ken behind, the girls, then Takeru and Iori. Each Chosen's respective partner stood glued to its charge's side.

To the surprise of the Chosen, the hut was at least half intact. The roof was Swiss cheese; light piercing through the ceiling and walls as though the hut was hit by a meteor storm. The Prophet's table (which was once suspended in the sub dimension) lay on its side. Discarded papers resembling Talismens litter the room. The attackers had gotten here too.

"What if he's dead," Miyako asks. "What are we supposed to do?" It was a good question. The only lead on the Advent and Dark Star had come from the Prophet. If he was dead, what were the Chosen to do?"

"I don't know," Iori says, eyeing one of the Talismen for clues. "We don't know about Picklemon yet. Perhaps he survived."

"How did this all happen? I thought the Advent were three days away?" Daisuke says kicking at fallen ceiling fragments.

"Jijimon said they attacked through the shipping crates," Ken says. "And to think we were inches away from the attackers at one point..."

"How did the crates get here? By train – err... Locomon?" Hikari asks.

"Yeah, there's a Locomon station just over—" Ken stops midsentence, a realisation forming in his mind. "The Prophet said he had a friend at the: 'Digital World's premier data terminal' or something. What was it its name again?"

"Library Labyrinth!" Miyako says, snapping her fingers.

Ken nods. "Right, that's it. Since we cannot locate the Prophet, or next best bet would be to head to the Library labyrinth, and talk to the Prophets associate."

"But where _is _the library?" Hikari asks. "None of us know—"

"It's on another continent, dagyaa," Armadimon says. Everyone looks at the armadillo Digimon, eyebrows raised. "What? I've heard about it before. They say it's on 'Net continent dagyaa. Off the west coast dagyaa." The yellow digimon smiles, content with its contribution.

"Thanks Armadimon!" Iori says, patting his partners head gingerly, "Even though that complicates things."

"Like transportation," Daisuke adds.

"But we have a train station nearby," Ken smiles. "It should be able to get us to the east coast. Or at least close."

"Brilliant!" Miyako says, flinging her arms around the straight-haired introvert. The action takes him back and he stumbles. "Sorry," she says after she gives him breathing space.

"I forgive you, I guess," Ken says. Miyako and Hikari giggle.

**llllllllll**

The train station contains no trains. Or Digimon for that matter; it is deserted in its entirety. The room shows battle wounds, recent too. To be expected, considering the invasion began here. But the building is intact – whatever the Advent had been searching for wasn't here. It put a little peace into the Chosen's minds.

"If I could only find a map," Ken Ichijouji says, stroking his chin with his thumb. The station is a mess, but surely it had a service desk or a Digital World equivalent. The group splinters apart – Daisuke and Ken would search for a map, the other four would search for trains or a train schedule.

Daisuke and Ken are alone with their partners and each other. They locate the reception cubicles. They are as deserted as the town was, but Ken locates some folders and searches through them. Daisuke searches the bulletins for maps. The language is all recognisable, human texts in Japanese and English. They even appeared in standard type fonts, one of the Digital Worlds peculiarities.

"Do you think," Daisuke begins, "That we can still Jogress evolve? After that wavesplit Imperialdramon apart?"

"I don't know," Ken said. He even brought a flashlight and was using it to search through the dimly lit room. How thoughtful.

"We should try it," Daisuke says, then looks at the two Child Digimon. "If you guys feel up to it, that is." They nod, and Ken agrees. He retrieves his black Digivice, and the two Children digimon burst into their adult forms. _At least they could achieve adult level evolution, right?_

"Jogress evolve!" Daisuke shouts with his Digivice in hand, raised above his head. It emits the familiar light of evolution, and the phantasmal forms of XVmon and Stingmon coalesce into a single entity. For a fraction of a second. The light dissipates and the adult Digimon find themselves in a heap on the floor.

"Ow," XVmon says, tail sweeping the floor. Stingmon is sprawled on top of him.

"Sorry," The green insect Digimon says and dismounts his friend. He pats himself off and helps XVmon to his feet.

"That sucked." Both figures glow and shrink into Wormmon and Vmon respectively.

"You could say that again," Daisuke says. He pockets the Digivice and both Chosen return to their search. It is silent, and despite it being afternoon outside, the windowless cubicles are dark as night save the holes in the walls where the solar flashlight shines through. All other light comes from Ken's synthetic light. Daisuke uses the miniscule glow of his D3 to search his sections.

"I think I've found something," Ken says. Daisuke heads over to his friend, shoes clunking against the wooden planks that serve as the station floor. The ex-genius holds a rollup map like a folded scroll. He clears a desk of debris and lays the cylinder out.

"The entire continent of Server?" Daisuke asks, squinting to read the text in the light-deprived room. Ken offers assistance with his flashlight.

"So it appears," He says.

"That's not too bad," Daisuke says optimistically.

"No it's bad. We are at least 300 kilometres from the coast."

"But relatively speaking, we are close to the east coast. The center is well over a thousand kilos away."

"I guess. If we could find a Locomon we'd be in good shape, the rail road ends..." Ken's finger trails a dotted line. "Here." He presses the tip against a costal town of indeterminate size.

"Good. I'll text Takeru and see if they're having any luck," Daisuke says, retrieving his D-terminal.

**llllllllll**

_No luck_, Takeru responds. To the four's dismay, not a single Locomon populated the station anywhere. It left only one option.

"We're going to have to wait for one to pass by," Takeru says when Ken and Daisuke rejoin the group.

"I was worried you were going to say that. Any schedules posted about?"

"None that we've found. How about you?"

"Nothing else. Just the map."

"Well at least we have a map," Takeru says optimistically. "We're getting hungry, how about you guys?"

"I could use a bite," Daisuke admits.

The group sets up camp in the station. Natural sunlight illuminates the room through windows. The track is within visual range so no passing Locomon will go unnoticed. The group eats foodstuffs Miyako passes about: protein bars, spring water, and an array of packaged goods ranging from healthy to less healthy. The Digimon in particular consume the food ravenously, the prior evolutions took a lot of energy out of them. The adrenaline and excitement of the day makes the Chosen tired, the sun setting from afternoon to evening doesn't help in the slightest. Before long natural sunlight is gone and replaced with reflected moonlight. Only one of the moons currently dominates the sky.

The waiting continues and the Chosen grow progressively more tired and restless. If there are survivors they do a good job hiding, the town is silent save for the crackling of fire at a safe distance. It felt so contradictory to be sitting by idly while a once-populated town – a home to hundreds of Digimon burns to the ground. But there was nothing they could do now.

Hawkmon shushes Vmon by holding a feathered finger to his beak. His ear is turned to the darkness, listening.

"What is it?" Miyako whispers. Hawkmon shushes her as well, but in a way that reassures her he's not listening for a threat. It takes a few seconds before the Chosen's ears pick it up, it's a low frequency rumble not only heard, but felt as well. The ensuing blast of a horn is the final confirmation.

"A Locomon!" Miyako shouts. "I think that's a Locomon!" The group runs eagerly to the edge of the station where the tracks run parallel. In the distance is a beady light it the now-dark sky. The sound grows louder as the locomotive approaches. Eventually the Digimon came to a stop. It required much less time to break then an earth locomotive, but it also carried a mere four carts.

"Hello!" Daisuke says. The Locomon eyes him lazily. It is a pink design, with a head shaped roughly like a mouse. It wiggles on the tracks as if trying to find a comfortable position, but says nothing. It just observes the waving boy with mild curiosity.

"Well are you going to unload me or what? I got a busy schedule to run here," the Digimon says finally. Does it not see the town in shambles?

"Actually we were wondering if you could help us out."

"Are you serious? You stand there like an idiot and don't even help unload, than you have the guts to ask for _my _help?" The Locomon shifts positions on the track. Perhaps it too thought the Chosen were just other Digimon?

"Well, sorry but we are trying to save _your _world here, Mr. Locomon. Risking our lives for your butts..."

"As if I haven't heard that excuse before. Now are you going to unload me or what? If I'm late for my next stop I'm in deep trouble."

_Ah, bargaining leverage _thinks Daisuke."I'll tell you what, we will unload you, help you out, and you take us to the coast, to help us out. If it's along the way, of course,"

"But I'm not a passenger train," The Locomon says. But the first cart behind the Digimon it/himself is a passenger cart.

"What about that passenger cart right behind you," Daisuke says raising an eyebrow.

The Locomon grumbles. "No."

"Well then I guess you aren't getting unloaded. Sorry," Daisuke turns and walks away slowly. The train shudders on its tracks.

"Wait, wait. Fine... if you unload me quickly I'll give you a ride. But no detours, as I'm already behind schedule."

"Alright!" Daisuke says, thumbs-upping his comrades.

In less then an hour the train carts are emptied and the Chosen are on the tracks. The remains of _Meadowville_drift from window to window. The town is still aglow, the sky retains its ominous darkness, but as the train departs the air ahead thins out. The fields themselves are still burning, but less intensely. The town is a light post in the night, the remains of a recent culture burn to ashes. Daisuke's fists are clenched as he thinks about the prior carnage. _Did the Advent do all that just to find Wizarmon? Was there an ulterior motive? _ And then the fire is a speck in the distance, and the Chosen ride once again into the unknown darkness of the Digital World.

**llllllllll**

"So the device worked," Tactimon says, sheathed sword resting across his lap. He sits cross-legged in his quarters, with one guest. He feels stiff from the long flight back to the spire after his most recent raid: the capture of a small city rich in resources – a supply depot for the growing advent forces.

"Master," the servant says, "Shall we pursue the Chosen now that they are unable to fight against us?"

"No," Tactimon says. "The children are no longer a threat to us. If you come across them, by all means do kill them. Searching specifically for them would be tactically unwise, and a waste of resources. If we fail to find the _crystals_, this'll all be for nothing anyways. Remind me how many we've found so far."

"Zero, master."

"Exactly. Time is something we cannot spare under any circumstance." Tactimon is silent, reflecting. "I believe you have something else to inform me of?"

"I've found the Prophet, Master. In fact, he's in the interrogation chambers as we speak."

"Very well," Tactimon says, but remains seated. "I will deal with that shortly. I am beginning to find my doubt in you misguided. You have done well, my servant." After a few moments of silence, Tactimon motions to the door. "You may leave now."

"Yes master," Baalmon bows and exits his lord's chamber. After a few paces he is confronted by the _second_, the Queen of Demons herself, Lilithmon.

"Baalmon, I've been looking for you..."

"My Master requests I do not converse with you." Baalmon says, eyes narrowing.

"That old fool," Lilithmon presses her middle finger down with her thumb, cracking the knuckle in the process. "He thinks the Chosen shouldn't be hunted. I disagree with his _poor judgement."_

"Your opinion is irrelevant," Baalmon says, treading thin ice.

"As is yours, in Tactimon's eyes. But I come to you with a proposition," She moves into Baalmon's personal bubble, running her demonic clawed hand across his cheek seductively.

"You are just a servant soldier right now, but I can offer you power beyond your wildest fantasies. If you bring me the Chosen, alive and screaming, I'll reward you very, very well." As she speaks she grabs his hand and places it on her thigh, before guiding it to more devious places. Baalmon is a mixture of arousal and horror, and cannot pull away. Even if he wanted to, Lilithmon is far stronger then he is.

She releases him and runs her clawed hand through her hair, a wretched grin lines her lips. "I might even make you my head officer. Think about it," and she turns and disappears down the corridor. She looks over her shoulder once and winks at a flustered Baalmon.

**Intermediary chapter, huzzah!**


End file.
